beyond the clouded sky
by triciasama
Summary: [challange fic] Pre-FFVII. Cid Highwind has been assigned to work with the head of weapons development - Scarlet. And sometimes, you just have to look beyond the clouded sky to see the brightness beneath.


**beyond the clouded sky  
**"_It's not up to us to judge others, but God… and God says that all people are equal in His eyes."_

_

* * *

_Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Squaresoft inc. No profit was incurred in the making of his fic. 

a/n: Written for a challenge given by the lovely **magnum opus**, who had generously provided her incredible beta-ing skills for this piece as well. Requirements are five words, festive, stratosphere, knife, meaningful, material and the pairing Cid/Scarlet. Pre-FFVII, when Cid Highwind was still working with Shinra. I shall pray that you enjoy it.

* * *

I. 

The radio cackled softly in the darkened hangar, blurting out a nostalgic song through the dust-encrusted speakers. Tools were splayed out on the cement floor, wrenches and pliers of all sizes piled haphazardly on top of each other. The echoes of metal clashing against metal, occasionally punctuated by an annoyed grunt, bounded off the impersonal steel walls of the building.

"Fucking hell! Where did I put the bloody thing?" an exclamation escaped the hollow body of the disengaged aircraft. More clinking and thudding ensued as the pilot finally gave up and climbed out of the narrow opening. "Jay, have you seen the bloody piston for this-"

The overall-clad youth handed him the part with an amused smile, peering over the shoulder over his captain into the mass of metal parts and criss-crossed wires.

"Sir, are you sure you…"

"I damn well know what the hell I'm doin'!"

"…Okay, but I'm wondering what I am… here for." Jason said as he watched the goggled head pop down into the hatch again. He was not at all fazed by the impolite statements blurted out by his supervisor. After all, the man was Captain Cid Highwind of the Shinra Aviation Department, and he had known him for the past two years he had been working here. Cursing was what came with the package, and considering what the rest of the package contained - dedication, egoistical intelligence and a warm heart beneath the rough exterior - he did not mind.

He was seriously considering yanking out the pilot by the cuff of his collar to allow himself, the actual technical engineer designated for this particular aircraft, to work on it, when he was interrupted by three sharp knocks on the door to the connecting building. It jolted him, and it apparently startled Cid, because he heard a loud bang from the bowels of the aircraft that was not caused by any of his tools.

"Oh, shit! Get that for me, will ya?"

"Yes, sir," the young man hastened towards the door, flinging it open and finding himself standing face to face with the person he least most expected to see here – Scarlet Ellingseter of the Weapons Development Sector.

"Uh, uh…"

"Is a… Cid Highwind here?" the blonde woman placed her blood-red manicured fingers on the doorjamb, leaning in slightly with a cocked eyebrow into the flickering fluorescent surroundings. Just then, the pilot had hopped out of the aircraft, rubbing his forehead with obvious irritation, wielding a rather enormous wrench in his other hand.

"Look, lady. We don't want to buy any of your… oh, sorry, Miss Ellingseter," he quickly drew out the lit cigarette between his lips and extinguished it with a stamp of his foot, which drew a rather bored look from the female executive.

"We have something to discuss, Mr. Highwind," her high heels clacked on the hard surface of the floor as she strode in, gesturing to the young engineer who was standing by the door wringing his hands in nervousness. "Please leave."

Jason quickly swept out the door and closed it with a click behind him. Scarlet ignored the pilot for a while, finding a nearby worktable and swiped away the tools loudly before perching herself on it, crossing her legs demurely.

"Miss Ellingseter…"

"Scarlet, please."

"Miss Scarlet, this isn't a social call, is it?" the grumpy pilot asked suspiciously, running a hand through his rumpled blond crop.

"How brilliant of you to notice that… let's get down to business," she leant down into her briefcase and whipped out a pale yellow manila folder, tossing it expertly to the Cid. The pilot caught the file, and there were a few moments of silence as he flipped it open and scrutinized the contents intently.

"Captain Cid Highwind, we are currently undergoing a project in Junon… blah, blah, blah… request your services… military aircraft..." he read aloud. "Waitaminute, military aircraft?"

"Apparently the science department came up with a new innovation. Instead of using the blasted machine gun mounted on the plane manually, this weapon is built into the body of the aircraft itself, electronically controlled by the pilot in the front seat."

"I've done cargo, transportation and spy aircraft. Now _this_ I haven't seen before," Cid finally growled, slipping the document back into its folder and flicking it on top of the nearby file cabinet.

"Highwind, it's a weapons development company. It'll have to come sooner or later, won't it?"

Slipping from the worktable, she gathered her briefcase in one hand, and waved the other languidly as she turned to face the door.

"Anyway, helipad on the seventieth floor, seven AM sharp tomorrow morning. Don't forget to bring your toothbrush."

"Hey, I didn't say whether-" he was gesturing wildly at the departing female executive, only to be graced by the click of the closing door. Staring incredulously at the closed door, he shook his head and drew out a fresh stick, lit it and leant against the steel wall.

"Playing that game, are ya? I damn well ain't going to fall for it."

* * *

II. 

The next morning, Cid Highwind punched in as usual, donning the leather gloves he kept especially for working on his precious aircrafts. Truth to be told, he was rather excited at the proposal for a hands-on experience on building a new version of an airplane, but he told himself that he definitely did not want to work with such a manipulative, stuck-up bitch.

Picking up a screwdriver, he wiped the non-existent sweat of his brow and began scrutinizing the body of the aircraft he was working on the previous day. He reached for a piece of metal, and slapped it into the perfectly shaped dent, inserted the screw and began his work on the plane.

One, two… The screw wobbled its way into the hole. He began to increase pressure as he continued turning the screw in.

_But she did expect you to go, didn't she?_

Three. Four. Five.

_What would she think of the bloody aviation department? Even the captain blows a high executive off without an excuse or reason?_

Six. Seven. Eight… concentrate on your work, damnit!

_Who cares_ _who you have to work with? For Leviathan's sake, they're giving you a chance to design and construct the plane. Isn't that what you want to do?_

"Argh! Okay, lady, you won, this time!" He finally gave up, tossing the screwdriver on the floor while the unstable screw flopped to the ground with a sharp clang. Grabbing his aviation jacket from the hook behind the door, he rushed towards the elevator, pounding its button impatiently as he watched the red digital numbers crawling at an insanely slow speed.

"Open, you idiot!"

As if on command, the elevator doors swished open. He stepped in, pressed the seventieth floor and tried to empty his mind of the screaming rebel inside him. The ding of the elevator had barely registered when he swept out, pushing the swinging doors open to be met by the vicious winds. Scarlet was standing by a landed helicopter, glancing nonchalantly as the wind whipped her blonde locks into a messy arc.

Cid stopped short as he noticed that the executive had not acknowledged his presence yet. He took a moment to appreciate the breathtaking gusts of wind, the clean, clear smell that always graced the higher up, unpolluted airs, fingers of breeze tousling his short cropped hair. A childish sweep of elation crept up his spine, and the ends of his nerves tingled in enthusiasm.

It was almost as if… he were flying already.

"Highwind!"

"Oi! I'm coming!" he flicked the white scarf that had somehow wrapped itself around his mouth to his shoulder. As soon as his gaze fell on the woman who was clad in a tight, red halter top and a miniskirt with thigh-high boots, the familiar wave of rebelliousness rose in him, and he shouted gruffly instead. "I mean, I'm not coming! Damnit!"

"Sure took you a long time to get your ass up here!" She yelled over the roar of the wind, as he closed the distance between each other. Cid noted the fact that he himself was already feeling chilled beneath the bulk material of the aviation jacket, and she was barely shivering in the few pieces on loincloth she called clothing. He was going to comment on how good her insulation was, but finally decided against it.

"What, the wind messed up your hairdo?"

She threw him a flippant look, all the while obviously forcing a smile from those immaculately lipstick-coated lips of hers.

"That, never mind… I can fix it. But have you heard of what windburn does to the complexion?"

"You-" he stuttered, until Scarlet gave a gentle laugh.

"I was kidding, dear. Honestly, do you see me mess about such trivial things? So, ready for departure?" She threw a manicured finger towards the awaiting helicopter. He was about to retort that he wasn't going anywhere with her highness, when a shiver ran through him, and he wrapped his arms around himself in subtle defense.

_Bloody cold._

"I came here to tell you , uh, I won't be coming," he finally settled for a more decent answer.

"Okay. Fine then. You realize that you are turning down a golden opportunity, you know? See you then," she ended the statement by tossing in her designer luggage, climbing in, then plopping herself down in the pilot's seat. She was reaching for the headphones when she noticed that the scruffy pilot had stuck an inquisitive head into the helicopter, an incredulous look on his face.

"Woah, woah, woah! You're going to fly?"

"Yes, considering that my pilot just bailed out on me," she turned back towards the windshield, slipping the headphones on. Behind her, she could hear the agitated Cid Highwind plodding up towards her, stopping at the end of the passenger hold and the beginning of the pilot's cabin.

"I ain't supposed to come along. I didn't agree to your offer. You just assumed I would come, didn't ya?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. No one had ever… turned me down before. Besides, such an opportunity… such a talented pilot like you… just wasted, you know?" She stood up, reaching for the levers above her, when the vulgar grumbling caused her to direct her attention elsewhere, only to find that Cid was reluctantly climbing aboard, throwing his duffel bag into a corner without much concern where it landed.

"Interesting. Looks like you have changed your mind, haven't you? Come on, darling, you'll fly and I'll navigate," she crawled out of her seat into the cramped navigator's seat not far behind, grinning subtly as the pilot stalked up the aisle, plopping himself into the pilot's seat with more force than necessary.

"Shut the fuck up," he said almost inaudibly, jamming on the headphones with obvious reluctance as he strapped himself in, reaching for the levers above him.

"Same to you too, sunshine."

* * *

III. 

The next morning, Cid woke up with a stiff neck and a crowd of obscenities clouding his mind. He had had pounded the pillow exactly thirty-nine times the night before, and it still refused to yield to the pressure instead of lying flat and hard. It was like sleeping on a hardwood floor. If this was the way the soldiers slept at night, no wonder the war was taking so bloody long.

Groaning, he drew the blanket over himself and retired once again to his warm cocoon. The previous night's sleep had left him inexplicably drained, and he was determined to appease the brick-laden eyelids of his even if it meant a few more minutes on the rock-hard pillow.

He had barely settled back beneath the quilt when his pager beeped, sending him scuttling towards his table in search of the screaming contraption. Tossing aside the haphazardly strewn papers and whatnot, he finally located the device, and read the message with much reluctance.

_Hangar. Eight thirty sharp. Be prepared to brief._

A glance at the clock confirmed that it was nearing seven, and he just realized he hadn't a clue what the whole project was about. He had hit the sack early that night after overindulging in the welcome wine and dine in the ballroom, not bothering to go through the pale yellow manila folder that was now winking mischievously at him.

"Be prepared to… shit!"

Hesitating for a moment, he dove for the chair, sweeping all the other things onto the floor and frantically flipping open the bulging folder and pouring out the documents on the tabletop. The tiny black letters stood out before the white background in a congealed mass, the fine print unreadable unless he was armed with a microscope. Grabbing his head in his hands, he tried to focus on the report… until the insistent gentle knocking on his door broke his already wavering concentration.

"It's open, damnit! Quit knockin'!" He finally heeded the knocking and yelled impatiently without turning his head from the papers. The door behind him creaked open, and he could hear the familiar click-clack of the high heels, bringing him to the conclusion that the morning couldn't get any worse.

"Highwind…Ah, I see you're still working on the report. Did you receive the page?" Scarlet trotted in, walking over to the window and drawing back the curtains without any question towards his preference, and then positioned herself on the edge of the desk, picking up his pager and examining it rather intently.

"Yes, now shod off," he growled in reply, eyes still trained on the report.

"You should be having breakfast now, you know," she drawled, tossing the pager into the pile of clothing nearby. The only reply she got was a grunt. Scarlet lifted a hand, and place it gently on top of the written text that Cid was concentrating on.

"Hey, hey! What are you doing? I spent - Fuck!"

The pile of documents scattered onto the floor with a crunch, a few pieces flitting out the open window. He turned back to her with his mouth agape, feeling the blood boil in his already frayed veins. She merely smiled back at him.

"Don't worry, I've already read the report back in the headquarters. I'll just tell you the important parts, going through the politically correct version would take you days."

He did not answer as she tossed him a decent set of work clothes before sliding towards the door, putting her hand against the tarnished knob demurely. He merely stared, his lips tightened into a thin, ashen line.

"Now how about toast and eggs?"

It was then he broke, slamming the chair down on the floor as he rose from his seat. His face was contorted in fury, and he jabbed an accusing finger at the startled female executive.

"That's it! You're not my boss, you can't order me around, and you can't tell me to do anything! Just… just don't think you can manipulate me like all the fucking little numbskulls that lick your shoes just to climb up the corporate ladder. I work because I enjoy this, not because I want to be the idiotic whore who slept her way up the hierarchy!"

He allowed himself a smug smile at the self-righteous expression of hers melting away into a vulnerable, gaping look. Instead of retaliating, however, she bit her lip, turned her back haughtily to him and stalked out to the corridor, leaving Cid Highwind staring at the empty doorway, a malicious smile on his face, but emotionally feeling as if someone had stabbed a knife through him and was twisting it around, around and around.

"She deserved it," he reassured himself quietly.

Then why didn't he believe so?

* * *

IV. 

He did manage to finish reading the report in time, although his stomach chided him severely for it. He was used to going through Shinra-style stacks of useless information and drawing out the actual points quickly. The briefing went well, and he was introduced to a very competent team of workers, including a female engineer called Shera, and a fellow pilot Francisco, who shared his passion for flying.

Even Scarlet didn't mention anything about the past incident, addressing him professionally and working alongside him without any complaint, but not exchanging any polite small talk with him throughout the project.

All was well.

Or so he thought.

Cid Highwind was nursing a cup of tea in the executive's lounge, three weeks into the winter month, legs propped up on the coffee table as the heater hummed softly in its corner, when the door swept open automatically with a slight beep. Scarlet did not hesitate on walking in even after she saw him lounging crudely on the nearby leather couch, but merely bypassed him without even sparing a glance, trotting over to the coffee machine and pouring herself a cup of the freshly-brewed liquid into a porcelain mug. If she noticed his eyes following her, she did not acknowledge it.

She might have forgotten about the incident, and maybe even forgiven him, but he still harboured the nagging doubt that he shouldn't have thrown the insults so rashly at her. He watched as her manicured fingers clutched hold of the brewing pot and ever-so-daintily tipped it, the thick liquid swirling aromatically into the mug.

Cid drew his teeth over his lips as he tapped agitatedly against the wooden table, the last of his hot tea hovering in the cup in his other hand. He sighed.

A hand whipped out a packet of sugar from the canister nearby, tipping the contents into the mug of coffee before reaching for a stirrer.

He rolled his eyes at himself, bringing the cup to his lips and emptying the last of the contents swiftly in a large gulp, running his other hand through his blond crop. He cursed.

The stirrer clinked lightly against the mug as Scarlet swirled the liquid around in its safe haven, taking time to indulge in the whiff of the aromatic brew before lifting it upwards to her inviting blood-red lips.

He was not, in fact, being annoyed by her antics, or even throwing crude swear words at them, but actually at himself. It was the umpteenth time this week that he found that he couldn't look her in the eye, nor exchange greetings with her without the incident resurfacing to his mind, reminding him what a fucking dolt he was to lose his temper at her. In short, he felt really, really bad.

It had taken him two weeks to realize that his conscience outweighed any tough manliness he had hoped to preserve. He needed to apologize before he broke into half from inner conflict.

_No time like the present._

He rose from the couch with his empty Styrofoam cup, talking the excuse to walk over to the dustbin where she was standing near to. She did not acknowledge him, staring a trite too studiously ahead at the supposedly fascinating pattern of tiles in front of her while sipping her coffee. He hung around awkwardly, feeling the bile rise in his throat once again as the irritation built up in him.

_Hey, slut, look at me, for fuck's sake._

"Hey," he tried, his tone peculiar as he attempted to suppress the annoyance within while being polite (which was not his strong point) at the same time. The Styrofoam cup hit the half-filled steel bin with a unsatisfactory thud. She glanced at the discarded cup with a trained eye for a while, before turning languidly towards the awkwardly shifting pilot.

"Hey… I'm surprised, _you_… talking to _me_?" she drawled, turning her back towards him as she titled the mug once again towards herself, drawing a rather furious grunt from the rugged pilot.

"Turn around. And yes, I'm talking to you, if that's not bloody obvious."

"I don't know… anyway, what do famous captains like you have to do with some whore like me?"

"I'm just trying to apologize, okay? I'm really sorry for saying all those things…"

"Apology accepted. You may go."

She tossed the empty mug into the nearby sink with a clink, turning to leave only to walk into the huge hulk of pilot standing right at the doorway.

"You're still here," she observed, lips pursed.

"That's it. Apology accepted?" his eyes betrayed more than a shred of surprise, even as he had his arms folded defensively in front of him as if protecting himself from the slaughter of abuse that had not come. She merely raised her eyebrows in exasperation, tossing a hand over her shoulder dismissively as she perched herself a mere few inches from him. She could hear his breath hitch, and threw a smug smile before she began.

"I overreacted. People are always giving me these labels. Bitch, slut, whore… that I presented myself so skimpily that I was sexually provocative, and that I don't deserve the position because I slept my way up and am currently bedding the president for this particular post."

Her tone was vivacious, even smug in some perspectives as she rattled off her explanation as if she were merely explaining the rules of a board game patiently to a new player. Then suddenly, for the merest slice of a moment, the hard mask fell, and a flash of vulnerability swept by as her tone lowered to accommodate the weight of the words she knew she was about to say.

"You can work hard for everything you want in your life and… somehow just a few words can fuck the whole thing up for you."

As suddenly as the wave had come, it was gone. And he was stuck speechless.

He admired her tenacity, her determination in topping herself in every aspect. This woman had dreams, dreams that may not appear similar to his, but in retrospect they were the same. She wanted to prove to the world that she was not the person they thought she was, that she was striving with every ounce of effort to gain recognition for her work and not her face or body. Yet, she never ditched her outer source of beauty and charm, even admist the catcalls and leerings that were hurled at her carelessly.

He wanted to tell her all that… yet, he couldn't…

She mistook his silence as shock, and decided to end the conversation there and then. High-heels clicked over the floor as she moved towards the door, placing her hand on the cold brass knob and throwing a pointed look at him to move out of the way.

Cid Highwind did not move.

Why couldn't he just say it? Would it kill him to say something meaningful for once?

"You… you take care of yourself, okay?"

She nodded reflexively, a mere tilt of a head to show that she had acknowledge what comment he had thrown to her, then closed the door behind her, the brass knob twisting slightly as it clicked back into position. The parting words rang in her head without her mind digesting them, and it was only when she was halfway down the corridor before the full impact of the statement hit her.

_Take care of yourself_… why was that so special to her?

It took her a moment, but it finally dawned on her that he was the only person to say that to her, ever.

* * *

V. 

Her vivid blue eyes scanned the teeming marble floors with a hint of boredom, the crystal goblet which was held demurely in one hand resting against her lips as the amber liquid swirled calmly under the bright glare of the ballroom ceiling lights. Festive songs chimed softly as couples swayed to the beat in the swank atmosphere, and the hall was tastefully decorated in shimmering snowflakes and strategically placed Christmas baubles.

Scarlet Ellingseter had just finished her customary traditional dance with the hulking bulge of her boss, and she was barely recuperating from the shuddering memory of his body rubbing up against her slim figure in a provocative way. How she went through this degrading activity every year, she wondered herself. Maybe it was the mere political matter. Maybe in some sick, twisted way, she enjoyed it… enjoyed the attention, the whole 'you-called-me-a-whore-and-I'm-slapping-it-right-in-your-face' fiasco. Whatever it was, it made her bypass the disgustingly sweet eggnog in favour for a more bitter wine instead.

She fingered the material of her low-cut dress distractedly, watching as couples giggled under the mistletoe and a few distracted bachelors nursed mugfuls of eggnog at the balcony, waggling their eyebrows at any female that passed by. The others were exchanging greetings and polite conversation with their colleagues or business associates and their stuffy wives. That interested her as much as watching ceiling paint dry… or sitting in one of the board meetings.

"May I have the pleasure of this dance?" The familiar voice jolted her from her respite, and she was about ready to snap at the intruder when she noticed that it was the face of Rufus Shinra gazing jadedly at her, his intense blue eyes uncompromising as he swept a stray lock of blonde hair behind his ear.

"Yes, you may," she said with a smile on her perfectly powdered face, but her tone was emotionless. Throwing a glance at the approving grin on President Shinra's bloated face, she accepted the hand of the young man who had an equally indifferent look on his teenage face that made him appear years older than he was.

As soon as they were out on the makeshift dance floor, she grimaced slightly at the glaring reflection of the plentiful lights on the marble floor. He whipped her into his stiff embrace, his grasp on her chaste and formal as he guided her over the gilded floor. They had an unwritten treaty to treat each other with respect, and neither of them would get tossed into the political whirlpool that was called Shinra. Just play along… and everything would be fine.

A slow number began, and they exchanged looks before closing the comfortable distance between them. They never talked. They didn't need to. Rufus wrapped his arms lightly around her waist as she lay her head indifferently on his shoulder, much to the disgust of some female admirers nearby. She allowed her thoughts to wander as her chin rested against the coarse yet silky material of the white trenchcoat, gazing at the whirl of colours until it was all but a blur.

It was then she felt the weight of a burning gaze on her.

Glancing over the vice-president's shoulder, she swiveled him around with a few click of her heels, allowing herself an uninterrupted view of the dining tables. Cid Highwind was tugging uncomfortably at the tightened collar around his neck, pulling at the striped tie of his and fiddling with the lapels of his black suit simultaneously. She giggled softly at his amusing antics, before she was swerved around again by the insistent grip of the young man.

The second time she was whipped around, she caught the vivid grey eyes staring back at her, quickly avoiding her gaze as soon as she glanced at him. A ripple of nostalgic contentment crept through her, and her blood-red lips furled into the tiniest of a smile as she recalled all the recent memories that were suddenly teeming insistently in her mind.

_How he had apologized to her not merely because of her status, but because he was truly sorry…_

A shuffle of feet, a twist to the left as the gentleman so elegantly dipped her to the floor before sweeping her up again. The pilot walked nonchalantly over to the table, picking up a plate and spearing a few pieces of smoked Vlakorados… however, she could see the pupils sliding oh-so-languidly to a corner of the eye, eyelids half-lowered as he met her gaze.

_Take care of yourself… how long has it been since anyone ever said that to her?_

He gave himself a private smile as he lifted a goblet of wine from the tray of a passing waiter, downing the amber liquid with a quick swig and making a face before chiding the waiter and requesting for another drink instead. This time, he seemed satisfied with the deep scarlet alcohol that was served to him, closing his eyes as he supposedly swirled the liquid across his palate, his contented look drawing another chuckle from Scarlet.

_And the time she walked in on him in the hangar, he had this childish look of elation on his weathered features as he sat in the half-completed bulk of the aircraft…_

"Ow!" Scarlet yelled on impulse as her shoes gave way beneath her, feeling the strong arms of Rufus Shinra wrap around her to prevent her from crumpling headlong onto the floor, and wincing as a sharp pain shot from the ball of her foot straight up towards her knee. She glanced down to see the accused broken piece of five-inch heel sticking up in the air, then the face of the vice-president staring down at her.

"Did you have to do that while we were dancing? That old man would kill me!" he hissed as he pulled her up to her feet, only to have her grimace in pain again as she crumpled back to the floor.

"Be overly sympathetic, won't you?" she snarled back in defense as she pried herself up from the floor slowly, ignoring the outstretched hands from overeager bystanders, hobbling over towards the dinner tables and settling herself in one of the nearest chairs available.

"That was a fucking bad fall, you alright?"

"Highwind," she turned towards the rugged pilot who was coincidentally seated beside her. It was actually unsurprising, considering that it was the only empty seat because all the other stuck-up executives didn't want to associate with the chain-smoking, cursing young man, however good a pilot he was. A few business introductions were suffice.

She wanted to frown in annoyance at Cid but, ironically, she found herself smiling at his overly-concerned look. Finding the heat rushing to her cheeks rather too quickly, she turned her attention towards her swollen ankle, looking fondly at the favourite pair of stilettos that she had broken. A finger brushed against the bruised skin and she grimaced a bit, but considered it minor compared to the past injuries she had sustained before while she was in training.

"You should be brought to the infirmary, ya know? Looks like a bloody painful injury there."

"It's just a sprain."

Sighing, she braced herself on the elegantly-clad table and hoisted herself to her feet, supporting almost all her weight on the healthy foot. Almost immediately she could hear the violent scraping of the chair next to her, and Cid was standing awkwardly by her side, a hand stretched behind his neck as if he had offered an outstretched hand and had withdrawn it at the last minute.

"Hey, hey, hey. Sure you can manage yourself there lady?"

"Yes, stop fussing," she complained, gritting her teeth as she waved away his non-existent helping hand and dragging herself toward the exit. She managed to make it out into the hallway before collapsing yet again on the cold tile floor.

"You said you could manage yourself."

Sighing as she tried to push herself to her feet but finding she couldn't without much leverage, she sat on the floor as delicately as she could, before resigning and staring up to the hovering face of the concerned Cid Highwind.

"I lied," she said simply.

"Damn you…" there was a tinge of annoyance in his voice, but she could catch the hint of a chuckle that had evaporated in his throat. He tried offering a hand, but after taking it she still crumpled to the ground with a muffled shriek. It was clear that she had injured her ankle further by insisting on helping herself, and he tried pulling her to her feet every other way to no avail. "It's no good. I'll have to carry you there, if you don't mind. I know you don't like me and all... but-"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures… just bloody get me there before I pass out from the pain."

"Alright then," he leant down and hoisted her in his arms, panting slightly as he maneuvered around a bit to get himself into a comfortable enough position without collapsing himself. As slight as she was, she was not as feather-light as he thought she would be.

"Do you have to hold me _this_ close?" she muffled into a shoulder before she was pulled out to rest against the crook of his neck, screwing her nose as she found herself being manhandled by the coarse pilot.

"It's the only way I can hold you properly without fucking hyperventilating myself. 'Sides, didn't the old meathead president ask us to 'work _closely_ in order to make this assignment a success'?" he grunted.

"I don't think the president meant for us to get this… close."

"Listen, lady, if you don't want me to get you to the infirmary like this just bloody say so and I'll go back and get that blond prick to haul you-"

His complaint was quickly cut off by a pair of lips seizing his in a quick but urgent kiss. He was too shocked to respond at first, but the perfect melding of her lips against his prompted him to return the kiss in a haze, and he felt his heart fluttering into a thousand pieces, fleeing throughout his body as a warm and tingling sensation.

The kiss was over all too soon.

Scarlet gazed up at his passion-flamed eyes with an amused and adoring look, prodding him playfully on the chest with a finger.

"Now… move, please?"

* * *

VI. 

Putting the last bolt in place, Cid Highwind stepped back from the completed aircraft and surveyed it with arms folded, thin, criticizing lips soon twisting into an enthusiastic smile. The wan sunlight of winter glinted off the hull, the name of the sturdy aircraft glimmering proudly. The unused propeller was dulled in the shadows, but the edges glinted sharply as it caught the last of the golden rays before the sun disappeared beneath the hulking shadow of a cloud.

It looked… _fabulous_.

"Looks like it's finally done."

The familiar voice prompted him to turn around, his heavy boots slicking on the dusty floor. He gave a tiny smile as Scarlet approached him, her curvaceous body covered in unflattering overalls and a pair of dirty work gloves. He realized he hardly ever saw this side of her… then again, only the planet knew how different she was from what she portrayed to others, and he was lucky enough to find out. Swerving his gaze towards the aircraft, he breathed a nostalgic sigh of agreement.

"Yeah…"

Scarlet watched in amusement as he walked over to the bulk of an aircraft, trailing his hand lightly over the aluminum casing so gently he might have been caressing a baby. She couldn't help but smile at his childish antics, covering her mouth as she dissolved into a fit of giggles. He stopped short and turned around with a raised eyebrow and widened eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing…" She tried to compose herself, and managed to do so which much difficulty as Cid still had this incredibly cheesy smile plastered on his features. Her sultry smile returned, and she gestured languidly towards the aircraft. "Why don't you take it for a ride? You could file it under product testing or something."

"I shouldn't be… Aw, what the heck, let's go for it! Get in!"

"Get in?" She asked with a raise of an eyebrow as she watched the pilot jump gleefully into the newly-completed aircraft, almost involuntarily following him the few steps closer to it. He shoved the headset on as quickly as he could, turning back and yelling loudly with the intention to penetrate through the thick hull of the airplane.

"It means get your bloody ass into the seat and prepare for taaaakeoooff!"

Scarlet clambered in, throwing him a wry glance before jamming on her own headset and buckling herself securely in. The smell of the new materials was overwhelming, metallic and plastic chemical fumes all mingling in the musky air. Nevertheless, Cid was unperturbed, still smiling gleefully as he revved the engine, picking up the handheld communications system to alert the ground staff of his takeoff.

"Cessna three-sixty-four, I repeat, Cessna three-sixty-four, to Shinra Junon ground… request clearance for takeoff."

There was a burst of static and for a moment he feared that he wouldn't be allowed out onto the runway with his prize possession here. Then, the speaker crackled to life.

"Roger. Cessna three-sixty-four, proceed to runway 31."

He maneuvered the plane out towards the runway, eyes stinging slightly at the sudden brightness unheard of in the darkened hangar. A bright orange wind sock was flapping steadily to the east, and dust flew across the hot asphalt runway as he cruised slowly towards the designated runway. Stopping, he gazed out of the windshield, admiring the glistening vast sea below before glancing up with a contented sigh towards the sky.

"Eh… it's a bit cloudy though. Looks like rain," he finally muttered, totally absorbed in the experience. Scarlet merely smiled, pushing a stray lock of her blonde hair to the back of her ear.

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Well, hold on to your panties… cuz we're gonna takeoff."

With that, the plane took off.

As the airplane climbed steadily upwards towards the ominous layer of thickened, dark clouds, it flew over the Junon sea that was stained blood-red by the waning presence of the setting sun, over the craggy hills rolling into snow-covered plains which was dotted with masses of skeletal forests. It flitted past wisps of clouds, finally reaching the thickened covering of clouds, shooting right through it into the lower stratosphere.

"Oh planet… this is fucking beautiful."

Past the dreary landscape of winter, through the turbulent, angry clouds, the sun greeted them. Mounds of cotton-candy clouds stuck sharply out with stained edges of vermillion and gold of the glaring eye of heaven, the veil of the sky shining bright blue as they whipped past the frosty air in the safety of the plane.

"Maybe you should learn to look beyond clouded skies sometimes… and you may see the once-shrouded brightness before your eyes."

For the first time since that flight, he turned towards her for a moment, noting the gradients of the sunset blending over her flushed features, the rays bounding off the silken sea of golden tresses, giving her an almost ethereal glow, and mostly… the twinkle behind her clouded blue eyes, and the twist of perfectly painted lips in a meaningful grin. Cid Highwind gazed at her, and smiled.

"I think I just did."

* * *

Epilouge 

It was another two years later when Cid Highwind strode down the dank streets of sector one again, scuffed leather shoes kicking the empty cans that lay haplessly on the slicked concrete pavements, which scuttled into the gutter with a loud clatter. His walk brought him through the metal-strewn settlements, where the poor and desolate festered away in their mere existence… through the hurrying group of blue-collar workers scurrying around, attempting to solve the legendary mystery of how to appear that they were working hard when not an ounce of effort was exerted. Finally, he reached the dilapidated cinema, the peeling posters on the wall greeting him as he stepped up to the counter.

He tossed a few gil on the counter, barely glancing at the punk-haired teenager behind the booth who had been tweezing her eyebrows out of boredom, and was now only swiveling a tired eye towards him.

"Loveless," he grunted, lifting a finger as he bent down to see under the grimy pane of glass, catching only a slight glimpse of the girl as she turned to type languidly at the keyboard, then shoved out the ticket towards him with tinge of vengeance as if he was to blame for all the boredom she was suffering.

"Enjoy," she muttered, turning back towards her mundane habit of picking at her almost non-existent eyebrows again. The pay and job benefits here must be bloody fucking low, he thought. He swiped the tickets languidly from the tarnished countertop, and then went in.

The movie had already started, even nearing the ending, but he wasn't late. He was perfectly in time. He stumbled through the darkened cinema that reeked slightly of softened popcorn and pungent sweat, the only light guiding him the flickering, dim rays of colours that were flitting by the screen.

"It's no use for you to stay here any longer," the distinctive voice of the male protagonist echoed through the theater. Cid Highwind caught himself as he nearly went sliding down the steps, regaining his composure fairly quickly and striding down the flight of stairs with slightly less confidence.

"I have to stay. I love you, you dolt! I need to be with you… You're the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I'm supposed to throw you away just like that? Just to chase after some non-existent dream?" what appeared to be the female protested.

"I'm not asking you to forget me… to forget us. The war is over, and it's time for us to pursue what we realized we had forgotten some time ago. And I think I should give you that chance… because I love you."

Stumble. Stumble. Grope. An occasional curse word.

It was only then he found the perfect seat, right smack in the middle of the theater, then he turned his full attention to the screen.

"I don't want to go. I want to stay here. With you."

"I'll always be here. You don't have to worry about that. Go and realize your dream, okay?"

It always comforted him, knowing that he wasn't alone… that he wasn't the only bastard who left someone just because he had to pursue his job, his dream.

"_You have to resign then, Highwind. And that is a very high price to pay for taking the cheap opportunity to romance the company slut."_

"_She's not a slut. Don't you dare give her that fucking label."_

"_You think you know everything, Highwind. Did you know that she worked as a prostitute to pave her way through university? Did you know that she willing offered her body to every drunken bastard who stumbled into the notorious Honeybee Inn? She was known as one of the best girls there, Scarlet "Circe" Saberforth, or otherwise known as 'The Scarlet Seductress'. She knows the ways of men, my dear boy. She's merely stringing you along, toying with your emotions…"_

"_That's… not true."_

"_I'm not lying to you. She's a qualified woman, which is why she is in this position now. But we can't run away from our past. Sooner or later, it'll catch up with us."_

"_So, what will it be, Highwind? The job of your dreams, the chance to fulfill your wildest childhood fantasies… or will it be the company whore who would leave you in the end anyway, poor and broken? If you know what's best for you, please end this so-called relationship… otherwise… I'll just have to see to it that you get your last paycheck tomorrow morning."_

Onscreen, the girl embraced the young artist tightly, glimmering tear-stained eyes surprisingly determined as they gazed into the wavering almonds of her lover's. The setting sun blended its gradients over the embracing couple, as if spreading its warmth and encouragement throughout the war-torn land. The shrill whistle of the train blew in a distance, ringing in the winds as the train snaked its way through the verdant valleys closer to the station platform.

An involuntary warmth stirred beneath his heart, as the parting words he knew were coming were finally voiced by the young heroine.

"I'll come back, even if you've moved on, because I know you'll be waiting."

Yes, he will come back. Some day, he will.

* * *

-triciasama-  
21 January 2005

a/n: You can complain about the degeneration into fluff, the ooc-ness and plain cheesiness of this whole story because I shall wholeheartedly agree with you. I hope I handled this challenge fairly well… it wasn't easy at all, to be honest. I would love to hear your views about this piece, and as per usual, read, review, author will be extremely happy. And many thanks again to magnum opus for her support and betaing. I don't know what I would do without you, dear.


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